


Descent of the Druids

by HiddenOtaku7



Series: The Eldest Legacy [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Druids, Dwarves, Elves, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Goblins, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Orcs, POV Third Person Omniscient, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quests, Warlocks, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:01:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOtaku7/pseuds/HiddenOtaku7
Summary: A high elf born into the noble family is unsatisfied with the role he's been assigned. Isolated by his father and forced to cooperate and attempt reforming his entire self he decides leaves of his own accord to discover himself. A vision leads him along a different route and crosses his paths with the unlikely friending of a half-orc who's secretly a wizard, a rowdy wood elf who's trying to find her soulmate and a dwarf paladin determined to fulfill his life debt on this exciting journey. They encounter and uncover a plot much larger than they thought and by the end are an inseparable force to be reckoned with.





	Descent of the Druids

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, guys! I've decided to add a new story since I'm stuck on my current Percy Jackson story. This story is actually one that I'm entering at the end of November for this year's NaNoWriMo contest. Clearly, it's not finished but if you all enjoy it then I'll add to it. Let me know what you think in the comments!

_'Scribble scribble.... scritch scratch.... scribble.... SLAM!'_

"Ouch....", a slightly pained but silent voice groaned, his forehead still smashed into the desktop with his elbow length hair falling around him in waves. "Tharivol.... is all this monotonous training even necessary?", Laucien asked, completely disinterested in his training assignments. "Stop calling me by my first name, Young Lord Siannodel. It's indecent.", the elderly man kneeling beside him stated impassively, ignoring the younger one's question. "But... Ilphelkiir sounds so... ancient. Hey! You didn't answer the question, old man!", Laucien complained loudly, much to the annoyance of Ilphelkiir.

Ilphelkiir maintained his meditating position, one eye lightly twitching. "Stop twiddling your thumbs away and complete your papers before I show you something truly indecent.", Ilphelkiir responded, carefully contemplating his words before speaking them. "Grumpy old geezer...", Laucien murmured. "Watch your tongue, young sire, before something awful should become of it.", Ilphelkiir shot back without hesitation, his patient semblance of a smile vanishing. "Calm yourself, old man. Do you genuinely wish to hear the... fruit.... of my studies? "The tartness of thine face sours the sweetest grapes.", Laucien quoted, puffing his chest like a pompous peacock. A smug smirk painted his features until he flipped from his chair with a yell.

Laucien stood shakily, blood spilling from his nose and dripping in his mouth, down his chin. "Young sir! Are you well?", Ilphelkiir shouted, finally standing. Laucien stumbled forward clumsily, grasping blindly for some form of support. He gripped the desk corner with a sweaty-palmed, white-knuckled hand. Falling forward, a look of immense pain flashing across his face, he collapsed into his tutor's arms. Ilphelkiir, shocked, lay the young elf down and frantically rushed about the cramped study trying to find medicine. He immediately abandoned his search when Laucien began violently twitching on the floor. Ilphelkiir jumped over to his injured student and placed a shaking hand on the boy's hands to calm him, flinching at the extreme temperatures rapidly alternating there.

He slid Laucien's sweat-soaked hair from his face gently, like a father would, and tried soothing him with reassuring words he couldn't hear. Suddenly, acting like a feral beast, the boy's eyelids shot open and widened to an unbelievable size. Random, incoherent words seized his throat, trying to escape while Ilphelkiir shushed him, repeatedly asking him if he was well. Eventually, Laucien noticed his surroundings, seeming to realize he wasn't in any harm. He collapsed once more, falling back to a laying position in his tutor's expecting arms, exhausted from the deep-rooted pain now seemingly embedded in him. He shivered when he shifted, his airy clothes clinging to him in his cold sweated fit.

"Release me. I need you to deliver a message: I demand an immediate audience with the High Council.", Laucien commanded in a hoarse voice, switching to his official manner, and shoving his pain aside. Laucien marched his way through the bright corridors, taking deliberate care to appear as professional as possible. His posture switched from relaxed and bored to proper and rigid while he strode down the long, decorated halls. His head was lifted in a way that projected a distinct atmosphere of effortless nobility. He heaved the double doors of the _Siannodel Halls_ open, causing them to cuff the walls just enough to obtain the Council's attention. His father shot an intense scowl at him that reverberated in Laucien's heart causing him to falter, his confidence and Noble mask wavering. He only continued when his tutor patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"Members of the High Council, I have felt a movement in the balance of power and magic contained in the _Vanishing Swamp_ region. I am requesting your help in ensuring the safekeeping of this area. I require supplies and escorts for immediate departure.", Laucien stated, presenting his plan as an urgent demand rather than an offer, staring them down pressingly. A weary, grey-bearded elf sitting at the head of the table raised a silent brow at the seriousness present in the typically playful lad standing before the Council. "The High Council acknowledges your request. Please allow us to contemplate the assets and liabilities of your request.", he quoted in a formal, rehearsed tone. Laucien simply nodded his affirmation and maintained his Noble standing position at the opposite end of the Council's table while awaiting their responses.

The retorts and retaliations rose immediately, all accusing Laucien of yet another shortsighted shenanigan. He stood slowly, a deep sigh engulfing the room in a silent, solemn presence before a simple statement was uttered, "I, _Sir Siannodel_ , forward the motion made by the _Young Lord Siannodel_.". Everybody tensed, surprised by _Sir Siannodel's_ quick decision, their nerves frenetic but still functioning. The _Elder_ glanced up from his drink before taking a long soundless sip, sighing in satisfaction. "Motion made. I, _Elder Xiloscient_ , second the motion presented by _Young Lord Siannodel_ and forwarded by _Sir Siannodel_. All in agreement, raise your staffs.". They exchanged questioning gazes, nodding heads and eventually all raising their staff to declare the motion agreed upon. The Elder nodded as well, acknowledging the decision reached and beckoned Laucien to his office to discuss the technicalities.

Immediately upon entering the office and securing a seat in front of the sentient man, Laucien relaxed. A low, deep sigh escaped his quivering lips and his face dropped into his hands. The _Elder_ knowingly smiled at the boy, aware of his fear of speaking out before his father. "Relax, my boy... You are free to speak as you wish here.", the man assured him. "Thank you, _Elder Xinoscient_.", Laucien responded gratefully. He removed his face from his shaking hands to hold a proper conversation with _Elder Xinoscient_. "What troubles you so severely? What events could possibly lead you, of all elves, to this spontaneity?", he asked with a hint of sarcasm, a slight spark of genuine curiosity emerging as Laucien began recounting his vision nervously.

"I had been receiving help from my tutor when suddenly I felt rather ill...", he recalled rather anxiously, "and I remember losing my sight, taking a minor tumble from my seat.", he continued somewhat sheepishly. _Elder Xinoscient_ chuckled at the boy's flushed face but gestured to continue the story. "I tried to stand but was too fatigued to support myself... my energy was draining away like someone was deliberately stealing it...", he trailed off, absorbed in his abused mind.

"And?", the _Elder_ nudged gently. "And then I collapsed... I could feel my body temperature rising and my body felt restless, almost like my very soul wished... or rather needed to be elsewhere. It was painful... I can still recall the sound of the tortured voices whispering in my head, overwhelming my own ability to speak coherently or even think. The way in which my body felt feverish and frantic... it was horrible...", he shuddered, remembering the extreme pain expanding through him. "And yet so stunningly beautiful.", Laucien whispered almost to himself, in a small distracted daze.

Laucien proceeded in his recollection, his voice gaining speed and volume. "I have this overwhelming desire to find those voices and release them from the horrors they're confined in so terribly. I have this burning passion in me after being able to understand the remarkably bizarre language and speaking patterns they used. I never fancied the thought that such a language, other than our own, could sound so surreal and... breath-taking...", he ended his rant, ironically taking a necessary breath before speaking his last word, still shocked in awe at the memory of it all.

" _Druidic_... He carries the blessings of the _Ancient Oracle_...", the _Elder_ spoke roughly, forcing the words from his throat as if they contained a contemptuous disease. Laucien leaned in, still missing the first words but he gasped softly at the forbidden mention of the Ancient Oracle and sat, frozen, his mouth gaping like a gutted fish. His eyes followed the old man's figure with a hollowed expression inhabiting his paralyzed face. He jerked into motion when the old man made a clutter, standing to wander around the library, sputtering jumbled nonsensical words. As Laucien fumbled, still weary at the mention of the _Oracle_ , across to where the old man was holding a massive tomb that appeared to be as ancient as the _Oracle_ herself.

He cautiously moved to flip the tough relic's cover, causing a cascade of dust and cacophonous chokes and coughs to encircle them. A look of wonder rose on the Laucien's face and he was possessed by an odd urge to hold it but the _Elder_ quickly slid a macerated page from the book's luxurious ones. The macerated page was deftly tucked in the inner chest pocket of the _Elder's_ cloak before Laucien was given the chance to catch even a glimpse of the mysterious artifact. Next, the _Elder_ removed a rather stunning sheet. It was adorned with an extensive legend labeled with gold letters.

Rich and radiant colors decorated the regions and areas explored thus far. Wonder once again captured Laucien's features at the brilliance of the art that could be absorbed in one trivial map. His amazement was interrupted when the Elder spoke again. "This, my boy, will guide you on your trip to the _Vanishing Swamps_...", he said, speaking in a slightly somber tone. "Do not lose this map. Keep it in your possession at all times and share it with no one.", he continued, his voice gradually becoming more serious.


End file.
